


Fantasy

by sheisfierce



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, Prostitution, Romance, Suicide Attempt, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheisfierce/pseuds/sheisfierce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie saved Finnick's life once. Now it's his turn to save her. (Or, how Annie crept up on Finnick.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning - suicide attempt.  
> Multi-chapter fic. Currently rated for teens, but it will probably get more explicit.

The sea is wild tonight. I image that the waves of the water are in my mind. My thoughts are racing and whirling. The crest of the waves are what I’ve reached inside of me. This is it.

My name is Finnick Odair. I am fifteen years old. My entire family was killed last night because I didn’t want to fuck a man. I had to do it anyway. I have been a victor since I was fourteen years old. I am a whore. I am a puppet. I am a murderer. I am worthless.

I drop the bottle of vodka I’ve finished over the cliff. Watch it free fall before submerging into nothingness. I take a deep breath and picture the faces of everyone I have killed, one by one. My victims from the Games first, then my family. I watch their lives flash before my eyes instead of my own, for their ghosts have become me. There is no Finn. There is only Finnick Odair, killer and prostitute. Finnick Odair, who will soon be nothing, just like the wind. I have nothing else to lose. Who I was doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is who these people were. Who they could still be if I didn’t exist.   I am never going to kill anyone else. That is my promise to this world. My dying wish. 

I’m about to jump, to soar, to end this tangled web of lies and hate that has become my life, when I hear a strangled yell. 

Her voice is whispery and sweet. The horror I hear in it doesn’t fit. I turn around. Even though I want to jump more than I have ever wanted anything, something in her voice pulls me back. I don’t want to stay on this Earth, but for some reason, I can’t seem to help it right now. 

Her hair and eyes are wild like the sea. That is the first thing that comes to mind when I see her. She’s standing about ten feet away and looks hesitant to come any closer.  “What are you doing?” she whispers. Now that she’s gotten my attention, the fight seems to have gone out of her. She looks sad. 

“Ending it,” I reply. I’m not sure if she hears me though. I can’t tell if I said it in my head or not. 

“Come here, please.” She holds her hand out. She should be afraid of me. If I had my trident, I could kill both of us.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Why the fuck did I just think that? Killing is a habit that your body can break, but once you’ve been in the games, your mind never breaks it. Everyone is a threat before you get to know them. Some still are.

“Please,” her voice is barely a whisper. I shake my head.

“Why not?” she asks.

Something innocent in her face makes me want to explain to her that she should not feel like she has to help. She has to be a child. She shouldn’t have to live with not being able to stop a man from killing himself for the rest of her life. No one deserves that guilt.

It is then that I remember that by law, I am a child too.  That doesn’t explain why everyone in the capital wants to fuck me. If it was one of their children, it would be an atrocity. Then again, their children being forced to fight to the death wouldn’t be quite as entertaining to them either, I bet.

I can’t answer her. 

“Go home, please. Don’t do this.” She is crying now.  
 I can’t go home, because it’s burnt to the ground. I go to my house in the Victor’s Village instead.

Four years later, I see her again. 

I see her on reaping day for the 70th Hunger Games.


End file.
